


Divine

by fizzy_absinthe



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: AU, Existentialism, F/M, Implied rape of minor character, Mythology - Freeform, Oneshot, Past Lives, Romance, You are a goddess, like literally - Freeform, myth, spirituality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 09:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11438457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzy_absinthe/pseuds/fizzy_absinthe
Summary: You are a river goddess, and you loathe humanity for the horrors they unleash on nature. You'd rather they leave you and your river alone... until one comes along and changes your mind.Of course, you are forbidden from interfering in the lives of humans, but maybe in another life, you could have a chance with this strangely captivating human.A non-specific mythological AU, I guess. Oneshot.





	Divine

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of weird, I'll admit it. I have a bit of a spirituality thing going at the moment, spurred on by rewatching the playthrough of Everything that Dan and Arin did.

You’ve seen many things. You've seen the biggest creatures stomp by you when you were very young; they would stop to drink from your river, catching fish to eat, or else eating nearby plant life. You were not very interested in these huge creatures, because they were not very good company. They were not concerned with young river goddesses, apparently.

And then, a star fell out of the sky. You knew it was going to happen, because Mother told you it was going to happen. She invoked the star, she said, because there were great plans for this world that you could not understand at the time. 

The star hitting was felt all around the lonely green planet, obliterating life all around it. It struck so far away, you didn't see it. But you felt it. 

Not long after, it got very dark. And then it got very cold. Your river froze up, and was quickly covered in thick ice. You slept for a long time.

When you woke up, you realized that things were very different. The huge creatures were gone. Being the goddess of a river, you can see the spark of life within every living thing, even if that living creature is very far away. But the sparks of those creatures were all gone. In their place are billions upon billions of tiny lights, barely a pinprick glow, and as you stepped out of space-time, you watched sparks coalesce and flicker out, branch away and merge.

You've been the goddess of this one river for so long, it’s hard to remember that time when the lights were dim. These days, your river cuts through a forest with huge, ancient trees. There are a multitude of creatures, which now have names. You've watched the saber-toothed tiger evolve into a mountain lion, a bobcat, a panther. You've seen wolves change into a great many breed of dog. And birds! So many birds, so colorful, always stopping by your river to eat insects. 

No creature fascinates or frustrates you more than the human, though. They started off innocently enough, staying in their caves and gathering only what they needed, like every other animal in existence. But something changed. You don't know if Mother did something, or some other cosmic force, but the spark of the human began growing brighter and brighter until they burned like little suns amidst a spray of miniscule stars. Now they build things, they conquer things. 

One day, a group of them came stomping by. They were very loud, with their metal armor. You watched as they made camp near your river, tying their horses to low-hanging tree branches.

You know how nature works, you are a facet of it. All things must die, it is just the way it is. A spark cannot be contained in a mortal coil for very long, the physical flesh cannot maintain it. The flesh will fail it eventually. You know this, so seeing a deer’s life snuffed out by a wolf is not shocking to you. That's just how it is. But watching the soldiers hunt down deer and foxes and boars, taking antlers and fur and only some of the meat, the parts they like best, and burning the corpse as the creature’s spark fades away sadly… it makes you very angry. 

They burn the corpse in sacrifice to their ideation of The Divine. You can't possibly know how The Divine has manifested itself to these humans, and maybe it does want them to burn the carcass of animals they hunted for trophies. But you can't possibly fathom why. 

As much as it angers you, you know that not all humans are this bloodthirsty and destructive. As you watch the soldiers make camp, you feel the presence of one of the humans you quite like; a young girl, the daughter of a shepherd. She has seen you in a mortal’s form that you like to adopt, and since then has come to your river as often as she can to toss wildflowers and sweet-smelling herbs into the water as some kind of tribute to you. This is the kind of reverence that you appreciate; the plants die, of course, but they're only cuttings from a larger plant that continues to live. 

The young girl is approaching, and you see a colorful spray of flowers in her hands, as well as some wheat and burdock. You're sure her people have associated some meaning to the plants and she has some purpose in delivering these specifically to you, but you appreciate the action regardless of what she brings you. But today, with the soldiers so close to the river, bragging about the boar and the stag they killed, you feel uneasy. These humans are not the type to allow a young girl to pass; they are greedy, and they take whatever they think will please them. 

The girl stops at the bank of your river, peering down into the gently flowing water before dropping her tribute to you. You watch from the depths anxiously, hoping she leaves before the soldiers see her. 

Instead, she kneels on the ground, holding her hands out palm-up at waist height, which as you understand it is a common stance humans take while praying. “Blessed Goddess,” the girl says, “I ask of you one favor. My father's flock is being ravaged by disease, and without our flock, we will surely starve. I only ask this of you because we have already sacrificed to the other Gods, and none have helped us. Please, Blessed Goddess, please help us.”

She then leans down, touching her forehead to the earth. She holds this pose, muttering chants to you. Your anxiety mounts greatly, because the soldiers would have heard her praying. Just as you begin to manifest in your mortal form, you hear Mother.

“DO NOT INTERFERE IN THE AFFAIRS OF HUMANS, MY DAUGHTER.”

You pause, just as the soldiers wade noisily through your river to the opposite side, toward the girl praying to you. She is so lost in her prayer that she does not notice their approach. You want to warn her, or sweep away the soldiers in the current of the water, but Mother said not to. You've always done as Mother said, and you don't know the ramifications of disobeying her. 

You watch helplessly as the soldiers snatch up the innocent girl, who is taken entirely by surprise. The men waste no time in throwing her over a shoulder and taking her back to their camp, joking loudly over her desperate cries. She begs to names you've heard for Mother, and names you've never heard before. And to you, though she doesn't have a name for you. 

“River! Lady in the River, I beg you! Please!”

The men laugh derisively as their physical forms disappear into the misty woods. Though their language is different, you hear what they say. “No river will save you, girl. Stop carrying on like that, you’ll spook the horses!”

You drift along the bottom of the river, unable to escape the horrifying cries of the captured girl. Her gift of wildflowers are still floating serenely on the surface, even as night fades into day and her spark flickers out.

\--------------------

Since that day, you keep away from humans. You're not sure how much time has passed, since time is a very nebulous concept to you to begin with, but it can't have been very long. The trees have only grown a few feet taller. 

You're aware that humans have spread a rumor about your river, that it’s cursed. Any human that approaches your river runs away, seeing horrible visions of hellbeasts in your depths, or getting mauled by bears or wolves, or if they are particularly stubborn, you adopt the most fearsome mortal form you can think of and chase them away yourself. Anything to keep them away from you. 

To you, all humans left on Earth are less than rabid beasts. They killed all the good humans, and the filth is all that's left. You have not heard from Mother in a very long time, which is not unusual, but you can only hope that she and the other Old Ones are planning on starting over again. 

You walk through the forest, taking the form of a human woman, basking in the pale light of dawn. Humans are quite resilient, as it turns out. You think that Mother caused the great volcano to erupt, destroying that human city, but of course you can't be sure. But the number of humans in the world is so large, it would be very difficult to eradicate them without also snuffing out the lives of billions of innocents. The plants and animals that only take what they need. It isn't their fault that the humans have invited the wrath of several facets of nature, and you'd hate for them to be punished for their avarice.

As you walk, you notice a human walking along the path pounded out by countless enslaved horses and cattle. In this form, and so far from your river, you can't see his spark or sense his presence, so it's no wonder why you didn't notice him earlier. He seems weary, carrying a large burden on a cart. He stops, leaning against the wooden cart, wiping sweat from his brow. 

As far as humans go, this one is quite handsome. He has tan skin and dark, curly hair, defined muscles, and eyes the color of olives. Even in this mortal state you retain some small bit of your divine power, with which you ascertain as much about him as you can. 

He's only just turned twenty, but he doesn't know it. He doesn't know when he was born or where exactly he comes from, just that the Romans took him when he was very young. He earned his freedom and left the blight of nature, the city, to try and establish a life far away from the cruelty of Rome.

Though you do not appreciate any human presence, you walk closer without fear. No human could overpower you, not even now as you are temporarily in mortal form. You could melt away this mortal flesh easily. As you walk up, he hears your approach and makes to dart. He stops though once you step out onto the road.

“Oh. Good morning, my lady. Are you lost?” He thinks he is portraying calm, but his hand twitches nervously over the dagger on his belt.

You glare at him. “What would give you the impression that I am lost? It seems to me that only one of us knows where they are.”

He licks his lips, and as you move closer, he seems to calm himself a fair bit. “A lovely lady such as you shouldn’t be so far out in the wilderness alone. There are wild animals out here, not to mention travelers with no scruples for handling such beauty. If you give me a bit of money, just enough for a room at an inn, I'll gladly escort you to the nearest town.”

You walk around his cart, noting how he does not allow you to leave his sight. He has some foraged food and materials in the cart that he likely intends to sell or trade. It's no wonder that he thinks you are some kind of misplaced noblewoman; your divinity shines through even this meager mortal form. If he thinks he can extort you for money, who's to say he isn't the type to take advantage of a woman? Just because you can feel the years of hard labor and suffering rolling off of his soul like a blanket of acrid smoke doesn't mean he's any different from any other human. The only type of human left these days is the same as those soldiers that took that girl from your river bank all those years ago. 

Amidst the wild root vegetables and firewood, you see the bodies of two young deer with arrow heads still buried in their hearts, as well as some fish and water fowl.

Just as you thought. This human may be handsome, and not nearly as brash as the soldiers, but he still selfishly takes from nature for his own gain. The rage builds within you like a crashing wave, and you can feel the ancient thrum of raw power breaking through the thin mortal curtain.

He grows nervous as you stare, fuming, at the murdered animals in his cart. “Please, my lady. We shouldn't stop here, the locals say these woods are haunted by a vengeful spirit. I'll get you to town, whether you have money or not.” He moves around the cart, and makes to lead you onto it to carry you to some town. As his hand encircles your wrist, the white-hot rage breaks through you like a bolt of lightning.

You lash out, striking him. He is thrown away from you, hitting a tree and falling to the ground in a heap. The cart is thrown and splintered, his stolen goods scattering amidst the underbrush. The wrath within you blasts out, singeing the leaves of the trees.

You stand over him, relishing the blood pouring from the wound you inflicted just above his right eye. “You dare attempt to take advantage of me? I am the River, you are an abomination to this world. You and all other humans! You take what you want as if there were no consequence. Well, now you have found the consequences of your theft. No human escapes my grasp alive, and you are no exception!”

He cowers before you, blood covering the side of his face and spilling onto the ground. “Please, I meant no harm to you, I only thought you were lost! I had no ill intention, I swear it. I would’ve only taken you to the nearest town. I swear it, Goddess, I swear.”

“How am I to believe you when you come to my forest, kill the animals under my protection, take things for your own gain? You lie, just like all humans!”

He shakes his head, as he tries to wipe the blood out of his eye. “I only hunt to make enough to get a room at an inn, and only when I cannot make enough coin from playing my harp.”

You pause. “Harp?”

He jumps on this opportunity, seeing it for the lifeline that it is. “Yes. I play harp to earn my living as I travel, but it doesn't always pay enough. I could play for you, if you'd like.”

Your curiosity is struck, so you back down. He scrambles up, swaying as he goes through the remains of the cart and finding a small ten-string harp made of carved oak wood with silvery string. “That is an odd thing for a traveler to have.”

He staggers back from the brush, even woozier from blood loss. He sits at your feet, holding the harp in the crook of his arm. “I was given this by the daughter of my former master, after I was given my freedom. I would play it for her at dinner.”

He begins playing the harp, singing in a language you've never heard before. The spirit behind the song is deep and ancient, and you think he might not even fully grasp what he's singing. The sound of the harp calms your anger, and as he pours his very soul into the music, hoping it'll save him from your wrath, you can't help but feel a bit bad for causing him injury.

He finishes playing, and sets the harp in his lap, awaiting your judgement with his eyes closed.

You could smite him from existence, like you would any other human. You could extinguish the spark within him, as you've done countless times before. But, something about his quiet repose after playing such beautiful music makes you pause to reconsider. Every other human has fought you in one way or another, even going so far as to raise a sword to you. This one, though. He sang for you, in his last effort to appease you, and now he waits for your strike.

Hardly unable to believe it yourself, you decide to let him live. You shed your mortal coil for now, vanishing back to your river.

You can't physically see him from here, but in your pure form, you can sense him. His spark is like a glowing ember; once burning passionately, but now reduced to mere smoldering. He realizes you've left, allowing him to live, and he runs haggardly back towards the town many miles back down the road, leaving the remains of his foraging where it fell.

You tell yourself that letting him live is actually a clever strategy. He'll tell the other humans in the town about the angry goddess that lives in the woods, and that they should stay away as you nearly killed him. The gash on his brow will likely serve as decent proof.

Once you’re sure he's gone, you venture back to the road, hoping to take in the sight of your rage-induced explosion of arcane power. The sight of it might soothe this feeling of unease that human man left you with.

You will leave the dead animals where they lay, as nature will benefit from their bodies, just as if they had died of age or predator. The wood from the cart and the cloth and other bits and pieces will be hidden under vines of ivy soon enough, so you don't concern yourself with that either. One thing does catch your attention, though. 

On the ground, where the human sat before you and played his music, the blood has soaked into the earth. You are astonished to see small, pale blue flowers springing up in clumps where his blood spilled.

What could it mean? You've never seen such a thing happen before. Perhaps it's just an after effect of your outburst of power. There’s no way that human is any different from the multitude of others that you've seen. There's nothing special about him, because how could that be? He is a human, and humans destroy. Humans conquer. Humans rape.

As you drift back to your river, you try to forget the heavy weight of guilt brought on from seeing his stricken expression, his face covered in blood. He’s just a human. You are a river goddess, a facet of nature’s power. You know the truth of the universe, you know the purpose of life. You know. 

He is just another human. He won't even live to see thirty. So what if he sings beautifully? So what if the words were old and powerful? He doesn't know what they mean. He doesn't know where he's from, who his people are. He is a mere flicker, barely a moment, while you are eons. 

He's just another human. Humans destroy. You keep telling yourself this, sitting on the bottom of your river, ignoring the sun rising and setting over and over as you keep your back turned, bringing the pale blue flowers to grow on the banks, carpeting the forest floor.

\--------------------

The soldiers are marching out to some war, and you couldn’t be less concerned. Even though the land they burn and pillage screams in agony, you stay under the current of your river, fueling the growth of the pale blue flowers. 

They go by the forest quite often these days, always taking the long way to avoid provoking your anger. It's just as well, you'd gladly snuff them all out in one fell swoop just on principle. Even though you've gotten what you wanted, and the humans stay far away from your river and the forest around it, you can't get that image of the harp-playing man out of your mind. 

For the first time since humans walked out of their caves, you find yourself invested in a single one of them. 

To your great surprise, you recognize him purely by his soul on the ether. He is walking through the forest again, but this time is different. Even from here, you can feel the waves of throbbing pain emanating from him. 

Unable to stop yourself, you rush from the river, through the woods, and out onto the overgrown road. You see him staggering along, leaning heavily on a walking stick. While you're unsure how long it’s been since you last saw him, it's clear it’s been long enough for him to grow a few grey hairs and earn a few more scars. He still carries the harp, but from here you can see the broken strings. There is so much sadness seeping out of him in regards to that harp that it reawakens that image of him on the ground, bloody and terrified.

You easily slip into the mortal plane, taking the pleasing form you took the first time you met him. You try to soften your appearance so that you don't frighten him again. The guilt climaxes, now that you find yourself here with him again. 

He stops, his knees shaking before giving out entirely. You hurry over to him, letting him fall against you, and you immediately feel the source of the pain. A stab wound in his side, bleeding out, draining his life away. 

He breathes heavily against you. “Goddess,” he says faintly. “Have you come to end my suffering?”

“If that is what you desire. I will grant that favor, to repay what I did to you.”

He chuckles weakly. His warm blood spills sluggishly over you and onto the ground. “My Lady. I assure you, I have endured much worse in these recent years.”

He leans away from you with great trouble, looking you straight in the eye. You see, in one moment, all the horrors he's faced since he saw you last. 

War. Riots. Theft. Whoring. Loss. Bitterness. Loneliness. Resignation.

You reach up and run a finger along the scar you gave him, jutting across his eyebrow. “I am sorry.”

“It’s hardly the fault of a river goddess,” he says casually. “I can only say that I understand why you don't like us humans. We can be so vicious.”

He leans against you again, each breath causing him great pain. You hold him, and even as you feel the rumbling of Mother, you wonder how you could possibly help him. He may be a human, a destructive, selfish, ruthless human. But he isn't like the others you've seen. He's more like the girl who used to bring you flowers.

As his life fades away, you ignore the warning from Mother echoing across space-time and gather up his spark of life. You cradle it within your ethereal grasp, handling it as gently as possible. As his mortal shell dies, you take flight from the mortal plane.

You search the forest, looking for a suitable place to rekindle this small spark. You find it, growing within a doe. She'll carry the fawn for another few months yet, and it has yet to retrieve a spark of its own. You ease the human man’s spark into this vessel, hoping it'll take. 

“This is my gift to you, human. I shall see to it that you find kindness in this life, since you never found it in your last. Especially not from me.”

You drift away, and later, you watch as the fawn is born with his spark firmly intact. To your dismay, there is a clear marking over his right eye from birth, a reminder of your cruelty. How can you hold yourself to such a high standard when you yourself give in to such brutality?

He lives a peaceful life in the forest, always coming by your river. When he does, you emerge from the depths and he allows you to pet him. He brings you berries and leaves, and you weave flowers around his growing antlers. He is a simpler creature now, and has no recollection of his past life as a human. You are very grateful for this. 

One day, he comes by your river, all grown into a handsome stag with big, impressive antlers and grace in every step. He has fathered many fawns in the forest, and they carry the same charm as him, somehow able to avoid predators and hunters. You watch him walk along the banks, stopping to eat the pale blue flowers that grow in excess around here.

You walk up to him, holding your hand out, and he nuzzles it without hesitation, in spite of your physical appearance resembling a human woman. “I hope this life has been good to you. I hope those old wounds have healed.” You say this as you trace the line of discolored fur above his right eye. “I never meant to get lost in such cruelty… But Mother tells me not to interfere with the humans, and only watch as they desecrate nature.”

He blinks slowly, turning to see you better from one eye. Though he cannot speak as a deer, you know what he wants to say. 

‘I forgive you, Goddess. I forgave you a long time ago.’

He leaves then, walking slowly into the mist. You watch him go, thankful for the vibrant glow of his spark of life against the backdrop of pinpoints of sparkling lights. 

As you watch him go, you feel that same rumble from what must've been a long time ago. You feel Mother looming over you, her raw, arcane power smothering you. You leave the physical plane, not of your own volition, but dragged there by Mother.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE”

You choose your words carefully. If your anger is powerful, you know that Mother’s wrath could undo all of existence. “I acted in anger against that human. I wanted to repay him by allowing him to live in peace for this life.”

Mother thrums and throbs, fiery in her rage. “IT IS NOT FOR YOU TO DECIDE, WHERE A SOUL GOES. I HAVE TOLD YOU TO NOT MEDDLE IN MORTAL AFFAIRS. YOU HAVE DISOBEYED ME.”

Much like that human man did after you struck him, you simply await for judgement. You are powerless before Mother, and to argue against her will only make this worse for yourself. 

You feel the divinity drain away from you, slowly, like an open wound. You can't bring yourself to be upset, as you've been here for so long. You often felt a bit jealous that mortal creatures get to die and be reborn, unable to know who they were before. You don't know what will happen to you, if you'll fade from existence into nothingness or if you'll be granted some other form of life, but right now you just watch the lights of countless lives swirl around you. You find his spark, burning bright, and with your last reserves of divinity, you trace out the branches of his life path. He'll go to many places, experience many lives. You exhale, willfully releasing your last bit of power to guide him along the best possible path for each life. 

“Be happy,” you tell him. “That's all I want. For you to be happy, to never have to experience such pain again. I gladly give my life in exchange.”

You feel a pang of sympathy from Mother, just before all the lights vanish and you are gone. 

\--------------------

Living in the city has a lot of advantages, mainly that anyone seeking work in entertainment usually ends up in some major city. There's so many people to collaborate with, so many exciting opportunities. Especially here, in Los Angeles. And while Dan has spent plenty of time in many cities, part of him still longs for the open wilderness.

He escapes when he can, even if it's just to a park or a hiking trail. Cities and suburbs are claustrophobic, the buildings in neat lines and streets making perfect grids choke the breath out of him every so often. He doesn't have much time for these trips nowadays, which is sad. But when his schedule does allow for it, he eagerly seeks out some little patch of nature to go to. Even if it's just for an afternoon, just long enough to clear his head and recharge. 

The park he's walking through has sparse trees and carefully trimmed grass, but there's a clump of trees on a small hill that he likes to visit every once in a while. A little man-made river runs through the park, cutting over this hill, and the bridge he takes to cross over the river is littered with faded graffiti. The paint on the hand rail is peeling, gathering like fallen autumn leaves on the concrete. Even though it's late spring, the bridge over the river conveys that same melancholy that he often falls victim to in autumn; the vibrancy of green leaves fading to burnt umber and muddy orange, the air growing crisp and chilly. He doesn't really believe in ghosts or spirits, but if he did, he thinks they would probably hang around this bridge a lot.

The woods on the hill are quiet, most of the birds off looking for food to eat. He stops and sits on an old wooden bench just off the paved path, leaning back, letting his eyes slip closed. 

Something about places like this bring him peace that he can't really find anywhere else. When life gets too hectic, which it tends to do a lot these days, he can always come to a place like this to just exist for awhile. He doesn't write songs, he doesn't go over his busy schedule, he doesn't even allow a single thought to become fully formed in his head. They'll drift in, like specks of dust in hazy light, and he'll just let them float away easily. 

Dan doesn't know why places like this calm him down so much. He just knows that, here, surrounded by the simplicity of nature and nothing else, he can breathe again. The looming tour fades from his mind. He stops worrying about Youtube’s constantly changing ad revenue policies. He doesn't bother himself over internet comments from total strangers. 

And he certainly doesn't feel so lonely, even though he's the only one here. 

Or, at least, he thought he was. He is roused from his meditative state by the sound of someone approaching, not on the paved path, but through the trees. He looks up, and he sees you, ambling along with a bundle of wildflowers. 

Normally, he would be a bit agitated at having his quiet moment interrupted. These are so few and far between, having someone come along and break the spell inadvertently usually ruins whatever serenity he was able to get. But now, he watches you stumble onto the path, and it's like a chord he's been hearing out of tune his whole life is now being played properly. He doesn't believe in love at first sight, no more than he believes in spirits, but he cannot deny that he's captivated by you. 

You catch him staring and, quite unperturbed, you smile and wave. “Hello,” you say pleasantly. 

He returns the smile, shifting to sit properly on the bench and not slouched over the back. “Hello.”

You walk closer, and much to his surprise, you sit right next to him on the bench. “I haven't seen you around. Do you come up here often?”

He is a bit stunned at how friendly you are, right off the bat. “Sometimes. When I need a quiet moment.”

You nod wisely. “This is a good place for that. I like to come here and pick flowers, leave food for the birds and the squirrels and stuff.”

As you look over your wildflowers, Dan can't help but be a bit taken with your whimsical nature. “You feed the squirrels?”

“Sure. I'm sure they can find plenty of food on their own, but if I'm going to come through here and take flowers like this, I should probably leave something in return. Otherwise, it’s stealing.” 

He never really thought of it that way, but as nature tends to be pretty ambivalent toward human actions, he doesn't think that someone picking wildflowers in a city park would be construed as stealing. He doesn’t say this out loud, though, but considers excusing himself and getting back to his car. As enchanting as you might be, he does have a lot of work to do. 

Before he can even stand up, though, you look up and the two of you lock eyes. He feels frozen there, under your gaze, like you've put some kind of spell on him. There’s an excited flutter in his gut, like he found something he lost a long time ago and forgot he was even looking for. Your eyes bore into him, and unless he's imagining it, there is a similar flash of ‘oh, there you are!’ in you. 

You look away, your eyes flicking up to stare unabashedly at the scar on his right eyebrow. He often forgets that it’s even there, as he got the injury so long ago, it's like he's had the mark his whole life. But having it so obviously under scrutiny makes him a bit self-conscious, and he rubs the scar as if it itches, even though it doesn't. “I, uh. Well. Um. It was nice meeting you. I better… I gotta go.”

He jumps up off the bench, and starts to leave, walking as fast as he can without breaking into a run. But you stop him before he can get too far. “Wait! I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I can explain, I swear.”

He stops, his curiosity his undoing, and turns slowly to face you again. “You know, this whole situation just screams ‘stranger danger’.”

You hold your hands up in a placating manner, smiling nervously. “I know, I know. I promise I'm not as weird as you think I am right now. It's just… ever since I was a kid, I always had these dreams where I was walking along in a forest, and there would be some kind of animal with me. A deer, a fox, a sparrow, a whole bunch of different kinds. But they all had that.” And you gesture to your own eyebrow, so Dan can only assume you're talking about the scar on his eyebrow.

“…I don't want to be rude, but that is really weird.” He cannot deny that he is more intrigued than skeptical, but the skepticism is still there. “Lots of people have eyebrow scars!”

You bridge the gap between you and Dan, carefully, like you'll scare him off. “I know, it might just be a coincidence. It just reminded me of those dreams I always had. Or maybe it was fate, bringing us together?”

Dan can't help but pull a face. “I don't really believe in fate.”

“Well, it's not for everyone,” you say loftily. “In any case, whatever brought me here, you're way too cute to forget. I know we got off to weird start, but maybe you'd like to go get coffee sometime? So I can prove I'm not a total nutjob?”

Your smile charms him quite a bit, and he can't deny that you're quite attractive, too. And there's something about your eccentricities that he finds endearing; maybe you are a little odd, but so is he, so is everyone. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to get to know you, even if the two of you are only ever friends. 

“…Alright,” he says. “Since you put it so nicely. I'm Dan, by the way.”

You shake his hand eagerly. “Hello, Dan. I'm ___. Here, I'll give you my number, hang on…”

You dig through your bag for a pen, and scrawl your name and number down on the back of a crinkled receipt, and hand this to Dan, folding it around one of the flowers you picked. 

He takes the pale blue little flower out of the paper, slightly bemused. You explain, “It’s phlox. It'll bring you good dreams if you put it under your pillow.”

He can't help but laugh, not unkindly. “Well, how ‘bout that. I will stick this right under my pillow, then.”

He leaves not long after, the calm that nature brings fully shattered and replaced with giddy, reckless energy. He knows not to get his hopes up, he knows how to be realistic. Even though you are very pretty and he is thoroughly swept away by your almost otherworldly charm, he can't dive head-first into another relationship. Better to let it happen naturally, if it even happens at all. 

Meanwhile, you go about your day, gathering up wildflowers and such, watching birds fly overhead, unable to get Dan out of your thoughts. He stirs something buried deep in your soul, some part of you that has been lost to the depths for untold ages. Maybe you were too forward with him, but upon laying eyes on him you felt like a tiny spark bursting into flames. You had to try, you have to hope he'll give you a chance. 

There's a distant rumble, and you frown up at the sky. There's no thunderstorms in the forecast, and the sky is more or less clear. But you heard it, clear as day. And unless the heat of the sun is getting to you, you could swear you heard someone say something…

‘MY DAUGHTER… YOU HAVE WAITED LONG ENOUGH.’

**Author's Note:**

> Was this too weird? I feel like it's too weird. And it has very little actual Dan in it :0 please let me know what you think! Even if you didn't like it! I promise i won't get mad.


End file.
